Saturday, October 27, 2012

green is my pond

A friend once commented upon meeting my family that we lived life as if we were in a sitcom. He meant it as a compliment.I thought about his remark this week with my return to laguna cleanup. Humming --

Green acres is the place for me.
Farm livin' is the life for me.
Land spreadin' out so far and wide
Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside.

I do not live on a farm. But, some of my chores have a rural resonance. Harvesting the water cabbage, for instance.

But Oliver Wendell Douglas I am not. I never was a member of a silk stocking law firm. And most of the socialites I dated were no Eva Gabor.

At least, I thought I wasn't Oliver Wendell Douglas. My rope purchase this past week may make me re-evaulate that conclusion.

As you know, I returned from the highlands to discover the rope for my grappling hook had disappeared. It was as useless as a pirate or burglar tool as it was useless as a weeding implement.

I finally bought a rope at my favorite hardware store in Melaque. You can see it wedded to the hook. A nice bright yellow rope. Nylon rope.

I knew when I bought it I was making a mistake. I have enough experience as a sailor to know why most lines are made of cotton rather than nylon. They are far easier on the hands.

It took me only three throws of the hook to realize my innate knowledge was far wiser than my purchasing impulse. The nice thing about nylon rope is that you can fast forward past the blister stage to the fully-lacerated fingers stage. Having writer hands, rather than sailor hands, may have been another contributing factor.

There were two options I ignored. The first was to wear gloves. I had none at hand. But I could have bought a pair.

The second was to tape my fingers before I started rather than needing to do it after -- and then trying to figure out how to photograph my right hand while staying in focus. (Please ignore whatever gang sign I have inadvertently made.)

My neighbor has cleared away enough of the water cabbage that I can now verify our two regular crocodile visitors survived the multiple emptying of the laguna this summer. I have seen each of them at night over the past week. The smaller one was there at dusk last evening.

One advantage to staying where I am is to enjoy nature in my back yard. Eva Gabor may have preferred the stores. I prefer the chores.Sometimes.

27 comments:

Tancho
said...

Is there no local labor pool from whence to choose from? Or must one do the labor themselves forgoing the supervision?Stimulating the local economy by tossing out a few pesos would be charitable on both your fingers, local labor pool, and would build your vocabulary in words of command and expletives......

I could easily hire someone, but I enjoy doing it myself. There is satisfaction in this type of work. My neighbor, probably about 20 or so was doing yard work when he saw me working in the pond. He said he was surprised to see an "old white guy" doing physical labor.

In MY neighborhood it is surprising to see an old white guy doing physical labor. The yards are no bigger than tablecloths and they might have six, "latinos" mowing, trimming, etc.. And as you know I am in Salem, Or.

I have noticed the same phenomenon. When did dads stop mowing the lawn, taking out the garbage, and acting as a general fix-it man around the house? Maybe the American male now strives to masquerade as an effete member of the European bourgeoisie.

We live in a townhouse and have garners to do the landscaping, however we are now on bag six of garden debris removal. I guess we got carried away a it when we moved in 15 years ago and added a few extra beds of plants. Suffice to say we assist with the fall clean up.

We try to go out daily for about 30 minutes to trim, cut, or rake. I figure we are at the half way point with six bags. Hope they show up to take the bags away as the garage is crowded.

Honestly, you are an accident looking for a place to happen,. I say this while shaking my head and laughing........What do you think happened before you moved there and after you are gone? I'm sure they all survived with the water cabbage.......and will continue to do so......You are a funny, funny man!

The water cabbage and water hyacinth problems are relatively new. Partly due to the amount of sewage and fertilizer that accumulate in the water.

The layer of vegetation cuts off the oxygen exchange with the surface of the water. As a result, the fish die back. Without fish, the crocodiles will go elsewhere. And I like seeing them.

So, the payoff is worth a few blisters. The crocodiles are one of the main reasons I stay where I am. Besides, pulling out the vegetation gives me as much pleasure as others get from cleaning up their gardens.

Steve, whatever happened to your memory. You asked NW when did dads stop mowing the lawn and taking out the garbage? If you recall when we lived in Milwaukie, I was the one who took out the garbage and it took me three hours to mow our lawn. After we got a ridding mower you and Darrel mowed it and I ran the Shop for your dad.

I have a gardener to take care of my yard, but I reserve the mowing of the grass for myself. It usually takes me a couple of hours a day for four days and it is sort of a meditation....round and round...avoid the rock or the root...pile up the clippings so they're easier to rake later...and I'm an old, white woman.

I found the same thing with my gardening in Oregon. It was a rather Zen experience. But my idea of meditation was to have a multiple party round table political or theological discussion with myself. Out loud. Much to the amusement of my neighbors and passersby. It is why I usually agree with myself only about 15% of the time.

My mother and I tend to have different memories of my childhood. Similar to a passage I quoted earlier this year. Except my memories are far chirpier.

"The past she remembered bore almost no resemblance to Theresa's version; the events might be the same, but it was like seeing a foreign film -- Serbo-Croat or something -- that was vaguely based on them but all in black-and-white and somehow depressing."